


Epiphany

by h0ldthiscat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ldthiscat/pseuds/h0ldthiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” she says, dragging it out, bending her knees in the doorway and wobbling the handle of her briefcase back and forth. “I am cooking dinner tonight.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epiphany

“So,” she says, dragging it out, bending her knees in the doorway and wobbling the handle of her briefcase back and forth. “I am cooking dinner tonight.”

“Yes,” Mulder says, looking up from his desk expectantly.

“I will see you at eight.” She tries to keep her voice even, dutifully reciting the facts of the meeting they agreed upon at the beginning of the week.

“Yes,” he says again. 

“Wear something black and tight,” she jokes. 

He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms across his chest, considering her request. “I accidentally put my new sweater in the dryer, will that work?” 

“I suppose it will suffice,” she says, grinning at her shoes. 

“Great. See you at eight for our Epiphany,” he says, tapping a pencil on his desk but making no actual effort to resume work. 

Her shoes scuff on the concrete floor. “Beg pardon?”

“It’s January sixth, Scully. The Feast of the Epiphany. The day--”

“The day that it’s said Jesus Christ was proclaimed to be the son of god on Earth,” she finishes.

“And?” He gestures with the pencil for emphasis. 

“And the day the Magi reached the swaddled babe,” she says, doing her best to evoke the tone of her Sunday school teacher. “Are you going to get out your slides, Mulder? This is starting to feel like a lesson.”

“Hardly. Just a friendly reminder of the importance of this day to us all.”

“What’s so important about it?” she asks.

“Well you’ll be cooking, for one thing.”

She can tell he’s in a playful mood. Luckily, so is she. “That’s true, I don’t do it often, do I?” 

“And you’ll likely be wearing something tight and black.” When she shoots him a glare he replies, “It’s not fair to ask your guests to do it if you’re not going to.”

“Who says I’m not?” She raises an eyebrow.

“And thirdly,” he says, clearing his throat very loudly, “I will think you look very pretty and I’ll probably try a little funny business. Only if you want me to, of course.”

“Uh huh,” she says, sticking her tongue in her cheek to keep a grin from splitting her face in two. “Tell me more about this funny business.”

“Well you’ll have asked me to take off my shoes, presumably, so I’ll be in my socks and I can play footsie with you under the table.”

“Go on.” She walks back toward the desk, tingles shooting up her spine with each click of her heels against the floor. She comes to a stop on the other side of the desk, looking down at him. 

“And at some point in the evening you’ll say something devastatingly smart and I’ll slide my hand over yours from across the table.” He meets her eyes and doesn’t waver. They spar all the time, but never like this before. “I’ll rub the inside of your wrist with my thumb.”

“I’ll try to pull away,” she warns him. “Don’t let me.”

“I brought dessert. I’ll follow you back into the kitchen to prepare it. And when you turn around from the fridge I’ll--”

She cuts him off, leaning down to kiss him firmly on the lips. She nearly misses, her mouth landing sloppily in the corner of his, but she quickly corrects and steadies herself with a hand on either side of his head, one small thumb tugging at his earlobe as she resists the urge to open her mouth and let his tongue inside. He’s a gentleman. He’s waiting patiently. She can be a lady and wait patiently too. A few more hours won’t kill her. She pulls away, slumping back to rest against the desk. 

“You don’t always call the shots,” she reminds him. 

“If that was any indication of your shot-calling, I’ll be sure to let you do it more often,” he promises, his voice a little hoarse. 

“Good, so I’ll see you at eight?” She stands, smoothes her skirt, walks to the door. 

“Not a moment later.”

She turns out of the office and has to restrain herself from skipping all the way to the elevator.


End file.
